


Life Could Be A Dream, Sweetheart

by unoriginalrhombus



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unoriginalrhombus/pseuds/unoriginalrhombus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Every day at 2:15PM Quinn Fabray sits in the third row, four seats over, and stares out the window. And every day at 2:17PM (for as long as Quinn can remember) Santana Lopez sits in the fourth row, four seats over, and stares out the window with Quinn."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Could Be A Dream, Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey guys! I've been on a writing kick. Especially for Quinn and Santana. This is a one-shot. It's basically canon up until the car accident during senior year, then bits of it start popping up AU.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing at all. Not Glee, Quinn and Santana, or anything else. And I don't profit off of it.

Every day at 2:15PM Quinn Fabray sits in the third row, four seats over, and stares out the window. And every day at 2:17PM (for as long as Quinn can remember) Santana Lopez sits in the fourth row, four seats over, and stares out the window  _with_  Quinn.

There's nothing particularly special about this time, there's nothing particularly special about this moment, except for the fact that it's a lull in time that hits every student. The lull settles in the middle of sixth period and drags until the end of seventh period. It feels never ending and no student escapes it unscathed.

Quinn often finds herself in this spot because it's the only place she truly feels at ease. Nobody likes the window seats in Lima, not when it's wet and not when it's Spring. the seats were left unwanted and Quinn had always had a soft spot for such things. So when she was a freshman and trying not to fall underneath all the pressure that came along with being the Quinn Fabray, Quinn had chosen her exact seat and stuck with it for the next four years.

To even out the playing field, this exact seat stuck with her as well. It stuck with her through her fall from grace, her pregnancy, her crazy years, that awful pink hair, her climb back up the social ladder, and even now, when she can't actually sit in it because she's confined to this ugly ass wheelchair.

When she tallies up all the marks and checks and fails in her life, this spot adds up to being more reliable than anything and anyone else Quinn has ever come across.

She's always liked this spot, even now when she has to wheel herself around scattered desks, because it's always grounded her. Outside the window was the  _reality_  that was Lima Heights and it was refreshing to have such a sight on the daily. It tore her down and crushed her and made her feel like life was happening everywhere else but  _here_ , and it's exactly what she needs to stay motivated and leave this town.

Nobody gets it, nobody sees it (including Rachel who's too blinded by her childish love to recognize failure, even when it's six foot two and towering over her), and it infuriates Quinn that the town is stuck in it's very own lull. A lull that nobody is trying to break out of.

This view is a reminder of that because directly across from Quinn is the Lima Retail Store, and yeah, their town really is literally that small. Anyway, this sight at 2:15PM every day is exactly the push Quinn needs because Lima Retail (real original, right?) is the picture cutout that is her future (if she doesn't succeed). Nearly every student that graduates goes there, ages, marries, and then repeats the cycle. She can see the kids from the years before her, she sees the sadness in their eyes, and their utter hopelessness that helps them stay exactly where they are.

It looks like settling, they look like people who are stuck.

It's part of the reason none of the other kids like this seat, Quinn knows, because they don't like looking at their future. They don't like acknowledging that this is who they already are, who they'll always be, if they don't pull their heads out of their asses.

But high school kids are just that, they think youth and freedom and crazy decisions last forever. They don't realize that this only leads to the future, that life is the longest thing they'll ever have to endure, so they better start it right. Quinn knows, she's made too many mistakes to  _not_  know.

Quinn often looks around her and wonders how everyone could just  _settle_. She feels the fire every day, she lets it burn, and it doesn't make sense that nobody else gets it. Well, excluding Santana that is.

Santana gets it almost as much as she gets her and it's scary to have a comrade who is so much like her. It's hard to constantly be one step ahead of someone who thinks like Quinn, acts like Quinn, and fights worse than Quinn.

If Quinn wasn't so busy being thoroughly annoyed by the enigma that is Santana Lopez, she might have actually admired her. You know, right before she shoved Santana's body into oncoming traffic.

_Anyway._

Santana understands what power Lima has, she's not stupid. It's part of the reason she kept her relationship with Brittany a secret for so long, why she spent so long pushing others down just so she could stay standing up. Santana knew there were limited tickets on this one way train out of Lima and Santana would be damned if she wasn't one of the few who got a ticket.

Quinn knows that Santana gets it just like she knows that Santana never takes her words too seriously. It's who they are, it's how they show affection. Cruelty was their form of love and there was no changing that. But even though Quinn knows that Santana gets it, she doesn't know why Santana chooses to sit with her that first day and every day that follows.

Quinn doesn't even understand why Santana sticks with her now, when she's confined to this wheelchair and confined to a future in Lima. It's their Senior year and it's becoming more and more apparent that Santana is the one that's going to make it out of Lima, not Quinn, at least not like this.

And yet, Santana's still there, and Quinn can't help but hate her for it.

She lifts her gaze away from the window, ignoring how Santana's eyes always seem to pierce the back of her head. "I don't know why you keep sitting here, but get over yourself. This view is much more appealing without you in it." It's a warning, a compliment (in the form of Quinn) and it's the closest to nice that she's ever going to get.

Santana, like always, barely even stutters at Quinn's words. "Keep smooth talking me, Fabray, you're not going to be in that wheelchair forever and it'll be nice to have more reasons to kick your ass."

It's not a compliment, it's an honest statement, and it makes her smile in the way that only Santana can make her.

* * *

It takes her months to get out of that awful ass chair, months of hard work, useless support, and an annoying brash brunette who doesn't know when to stop pushing and just leave her the fuck alone.

Santana isn't Joe and sometimes Quinn resents that because Joe would let her get away with the bare minimum and Santana doesn't do anything but push her. Her buttons, her will, her stamina.

She thinks this exact thought when she's pushing her way towards her window seat, her legs still not quite what they should be and her chair as useless as ever. Santana's already in her usual spot and it's surprising as much as it is irritating.

Santana raises an eyebrow, her signature smirk on her face. "Still in that clunky ass contraption, I see?"

Quinn shoved a chair out of the way, her cheeks puffed out in frustration. "Go fuck yourself, Santana."

"Gladly," Santana responded. "As long as you get off your virginal high horse and admit that you want to do it, too."

Quinn doesn't want to ask what Santana's implying to, not really. She doesn't need to focus on whether Santana's referring to Quinn wanting to screw herself or screw Santana. She's irritated and tired and scared because there's only three months left of school and she's still like  _this_.

"I don't have time for this, so why don't you just do what you're good at and leave?"

Santana's face softens and Quinn almost feels guilty, but they both aren't those kind-of girls, so they let go of both things quickly. Santana slips out of the chair, her body bending around the desks before she grabs the back of Quinn's chair and pushes her towards the window. Santana bends down, her lips inches away from Quinn's right ear.

"You should be out of this thing already, Q."

And that's how this thing starts, whatever they end up calling it, with one honest thing per day.

* * *

It's two weeks later and Quinn is rolling around on crutches. Well, rolling is the wrong word, more like traveling very, very slowly.

Her friendship with Santana has progressed, only because she's literally too tired to stop it. Plus, her and Santana have spent the past four years pushing, pulling, and creating a wary friendship and Quinn was very intent on letting it end that way. After all, she was far too set in her ways and had put far too much time into this thing to start all over with someone new.

"Q, you look pretty dashing with those crutches, if I may say so myself." Santana says, in a way that sounds sweet but Quinn knows is really only mean.

Quinn narrowed her eyes, her hand reaching for her locker. "You may not."

Santana laughed, her hand stopping Quinn from trying to stretch her body weirdly to reach her locker. Santana stepped in front of Quinn and popped open her locker, making Quinn wonder how Santana got her locker combination in the first place. "Which books, Q?"

Quinn frowned, her mind still on her locker combination. "Um, Math and AP Lit."

Santana handed Quinn the books and slammed Quinn's locker shut. She smiled at Quinn over her shoulder, a smile that was all honesty and very little competition. "Try to keep up, Speed Racer."

"I resent that!" Quinn called after Santana, who was already a few feet in front of her.

Santana turned around, her hands on her hips. "Let's see if you're as fast as you are pretty."

Quinn faltered at Santana's half-assed compliment, almost certain that it sounded genuine.

Things were getting weird.

* * *

It was a month later and she was in Santana's car, her cane lying on the back seat and her hand lying over her heart.

"What I'm saying, Q, is that it's like riding a bicycle. You fall once but then you get back on."

Quinn exhaled slowly, her voice shaky. "I didn't fall, Santana, I almost died."

Santana looks at Quinn like it hurts, so it does, hurt Quinn that is. She's in her cheerio uniform and her hands are on the wheel and her eyes are on Quinn. It's different, but not bad, and Quinn can't wrap her mind around how that could possibly be so. "This is different."

Quinn flattened her hands against her skirt. "How so?"

"You'll be with me."

* * *

A few days after the car incident where Santana damn near killed her (as well as her car fears) while trying to cross three lanes, just so she could get Quinn a chocolate dipped cone from the McDonald's drive thru.

She was insane, but she was Santana, and it was heartwarming to know that even though they weren't friends (at least not by the high school definition), they were still something.

They're sitting at the same desk now, the one that started and ended everything. Well, it's more like Santana is disregarding all of her personal space and and sitting directly in her lap because she likes making Quinn uncomfortable. Either way, they fit, and it's not as bad as Quinn thought it would be.

Santana's gaze is focused on the kids outside the window, running into and out of Lima Retail, and her voice sounds almost as distant as she's being right now. "Brittany's not going to graduate."

Quinn's not shocked, not really, because it's  _Brittany_. She loves her, she truly does, but that girl was much more comfortable with accepting the easy things in life. It makes sense that Brittany would prefer to stay behind just because it's easier than actually trying. Her thoughts turn towards Santana, and for a second, Quinn is terrified. She's scared that Santana's about to tell her that she's staying behind, too, that she's giving herself over to the life of a Lima Loser.

Quinn panics before she can stop herself and think about why she's reacting this way. "She's an idiot."

" _What?_ " Santana asks, her body jerking in response.

Quinn freezes. "That's not what I meant, that came out wrong."

"Then what did you mean?"

Quinn grabs onto Santana's hips when it's clear that Santana is trying to squirm away. "I'm saying that...don't stay behind, Santana, don't become one of them."

Santana deflates. "What about Brittany?"

Quinn shrugs, no answer sounding right. "What about me?"

Santana turns in Quinn's arms, her eyes saying something that Quinn isn't quite ready to address, so Quinn looks away. "I mean, what will I do without a second in command?"

"You're such a bitch, Q." Santana says, except unlike all the other times, Santana means this one fondly.

"I love you, too."

* * *

It's a few days before graduation and they're lying on Quinn's bed, looking up at the ceiling. Quinn's hand is wrapped around Santana's, trying to console her after her break-up with Brittany. It's clear that Santana is sad because her and Brittany have always been together, but Quinn thinks that on all the scales she could have weighed this on, Santana's grief is still coming up short.

"Are you really okay?"

Santana sniffles uncharacteristically, her nose running and her hand gripping Quinn's. "Did you mean what you said?"

"About what?" Quinn asks, genuinely confused.

Santana rolls onto her side, causing Quinn to do the same. "About me coming with you?"

Quinn's eyes soften, her heart expanding against her own judgement (and preference). "I thought you'd know by now that I mean everything I say to you."

Santana smiles, every part of herself almost as earnest as this moment. "I was hoping you'd say that."

* * *

They're drunk. It's the day after graduation and they're drunk off their asses. Quinn doesn't know why she agreed to this, not really, but she often finds herself agreeing to whatever Santana tries to get her into.

Glee, a haircut, coming back to Cheerios, etc. It isn't until now that Quinn realizes how Santana has always prodded and Quinn has always caved. Their friendship is  _weird_  and it's always been weird, and Quinn thinks that maybe that's why she likes it the best.

After all, most friendships don't really make sense. That part doesn't matter, it only matters that both parties are awesome and gorgeous and fucking amazing and-wait, she sounds almost exactly like Santana.

"You've interceded my thoughts." Quinn grumbles out loud.

Santana looks up from her position on her bedroom floor, her face amused. "Likewise."

Quinn rolls (literally, she freaking rolls) onto the floor because walking is hard. If she wasn't so intoxicated, she'd be concerned about how rolling from Santana's bed onto her floor could screw up her back. "My thoughts even sound like you."

Santana reaches for her record player, her hand placing a record into the player before putting the needle on the strip. She's wearing a short skirt because their intention had been to go out to Puck's party, but Santana hadn't been up for seeing Brittany and Quinn...well, Quinn wasn't really down to see anyone but Santana these days.

"This song always reminds me of you." Santana says, offhandedly, and Quinn closes her eyes for a brief second in response.

_Hey nonny ding dong, alang alang alang_

_Boom ba-doh, ba-doo ba-doodle-ay_

_Oh, life could be a dream (sh-boom)_

_If I could take you up in paradise up above (sh-boom)_

_If you would tell me I'm the only one that you love_

_Life could be a dream sweetheart_

_(Hello hello again, sh-boom and hopin' we'll meet again)_

Quinn opened her eyes when she felt Santana's hand settle on her cheek. "Is that really such a bad thing? That your thoughts sound like me?"

_Oh, life could be a dream (sh-boom)_

_If only all my precious plans would come true (sh-boom)_

_If you would let me spend my whole life lovin' you_

_Life could be a dream sweetheart_

_Now every time I look at you_

_Something is on my mind (dat-dat-dat-dat-dat-duh)_

_If you do what I want you to_

_Baby, we'd be so fine_

_Oh, life could be a dream (sh-boom)_

_If I could take you up in paradise up above (sh-boom)_

_If you would tell me I'm the only one that you love_

_Life could be a dream sweetheart_

Quinn breathed out slowly, almost in awe at how fragile Santana looked in this moment. Quinn pulled herself away from Santana's hand and into a sitting position, she turned her body so that she was inches away from Santana.

_Sh-boom sh-boom Ya-da-da Da-da-da Da-da-da Da_

_Sh-boom sh-boom Ya-da-da Da-da-da Da-da-da Da_

_Sh-boom sh-boom Ya-da-da Da-da-da Da-da-da Da, sh-boom_

Quinn leaned in towards Santana, not really sure what she was doing, but enjoying how for once she seemed to be pulling the strings in this equation. Quinn stopped when her lips were hovering over Santana's, not ready to go for the gold, not yet.

"No, it's not a bad thing. Not a bad thing, at all."

_Sh-boom sh-boom Ya-da-da Da-da-da Da-da-da Da_

_Sh-boom sh-boom Ya-da-da Da-da-da Da-da-da Da_

_Sh-boom sh-boom Ya-da-da Da-da-da Da-da-da Da, sh-boom_

It says a lot about Quinn's position in this friendship, about what her positions always been, when Santana's the one who lunges forward. She's always been the one capable of going the full hundred when Quinn has always barely been able to fully commit.

Santana's lips are wet and they taste like Brandy and they're soft. But most of all they feel like Santana and taste like Santana and it's everything that Quinn's needed, everything and nothing all at once.

_Every time I look at you_

_Somethin' is on my mind_

_If you do what I want you to_

_Baby, we'd be so fine_

_Life could be a dream_

_If I could take you up in paradise up above_

_If you would tell me I'm the only one that you love_

_Life could be a dream sweetheart_

Quinn wrapped her arms around Santana's neck, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with affection that wasn't like her. It was new, and different, and exciting. Quinn groans in response when Santana's tongue brushes across her bottom lip, demanding in a subtle way.

_(Hello hello again, sh-boom and hopin' we'll meet again) boom sh-boom_

_Hey nonny ding dong, alang alang alang (sh-boom)_

_Ba-doh, ba-doo ba-doodle-ay_

_Life could be a dream_

_Life could be a dream, sweetheart_

_Life could be a dream_

_If only all my precious plans would come true_

_If you would_

They pull away with a  _pop_  and Quinn is certain she looks as dazed as she feels. Santana just looks smug and Quinn wants to swat her playfully.

"I always knew I could get into your unknown kingdom."

This time Quinn does swat her, except not playfully. Santana would ruin a perfectly nice moment by just being so utterly  _Santana_.

* * *

"Your mom?" Santana asks in between kisses. Her shirt is off and her hands are splayed on Quinn's stomach.

Quinn arches up when Santana's lips move to her collarbone. "At an AA meeting."

Santana's hand skims over the hem of Quinn's skirt and Quinn inhales sharply. "Q, I don't want to..." Santana trails off, and it hits Quinn in that moment that she's been waiting for someone to treat her like this, for someone to care about her instead of themselves. She's been waiting for her whole life for a chance to begin and be someone different than she was before, and it hits her now that it wasn't a matter of when this whole time, it was a matter of  _who_.

Quinn shakes her head, her body ready for life to begin. "No, I want to...please."

Santana looks surprised and her hand shakes as she leans down to kiss Quinn on the lips. She starts moving her lips from Quinn's lips, to her neck, to the valley in between her breasts, and over Quinn's belly before Quinn's hand stops her.

"I thought you wanted this?" Santana asks, her voice soft and breathless.

Quinn nods, eager. "No, I do. I just don't think I'm ready for  _that_."

"Oh," Santana smiles, pulling herself back up towards Quinn's mouth so that she can kiss her. "That's okay, too."

Quinn smiled, Santana's lips covering hers as her hand started to graze Quinn's inner thigh. Santana slipped her hand under Quinn's skirt, her hand stilling over Quinn's underwear, ignoring (for a moment) how damp it was. Santana pulled away, her eyes sincere, "I promise I won't hurt you."

Quinn closed her eyes, content with everything that was wholly Santana. "I believe you."

* * *

They're standing next to the train station, their hands intertwined and their matching sunglasses on. They haven't had the talk, not yet, because they don't know if this thing could survive distance.

Firstly, they're best friends, and that's the most important thing they need to focus on, regardless of what they've been doing together these past few weeks. Secondly, there is the matter of Brittany and the fact that Quinn isn't even sure she could be with Santana in the way that Santana will eventually want.

Santana squeezes her hand, a smile on her face because they're finally (finally) leaving Lima behind. "You ready, Q?"

"We're really leaving, huh?" Quinn asks, genuinely surprised.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Yeah, dumbass, you to Yale and me to NYC with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum over there." Santana points over to Kurt and Rachel who are waving at them enthusiastically.

"Will you sit with me?" Quinn asks, suddenly scared that this train ride will be the last time she ever sees Santana. Her hand grips Santana's hand tighter. "At the window?"

Santana looks at Quinn like she grew another head at will. "Of course. We'll see this place as we leave just like how we've always seen it."

Quinn raised her eyebrows curiously. "From a desk?"

"No.  _Together._ "


End file.
